


Agape

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel's Love for Humanity, Emotional Trauma, Gen, Human Castiel, Past Mind Control, Psychological Trauma, Season/Series 13, Slight Dean/Cas - Freeform, The Empty, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: When Castiel dies by Lucifer's blade he finds himself in a desolate place, void of seemingly anything other than himself. But the Empty is not so empty, filled with all of his past memories and mistakes coming back to taunt him.





	Agape

**Author's Note:**

> I had an absolute blast writing this story, it really allowed me to get inside Cas' head in a way I hadn't really done before. Huge thanks to e_ori for her beautiful art that inspired this fic, I loved it the moment I saw it. Another huge thanks to all_the_damned for beta'ing. Hope you guys enjoy. 
> 
> Art is embedded within the story.

_ Agape - the love of God for man and of man for God _

 

When Castiel comes to, the first thing he feels is an uncomfortable ache in his wings, and a slight pressure in the middle of his stomach. He’s lying on his back, hands resting peacefully on his chest, covering his stomach where the pressure reverberates. He tries to move, but a sharp pain shoots out from his middle and he groans in pain. No moving, not yet. 

He opens his eyes to try and gauge his surroundings, to ascertain whether or not he’s about to be killed, and is met with an intense bright whiteness. It’s blinding, and he blinks back against the glare, shielding his eyes with an arm. He slams his eyes closed, and then peeks one barely open, moving his head from left to right. All he sees is more of the same blinding white light. Castiel struggles to his knees, hand still cradling the pain in his stomach. He glances down and sees a gaping wound, watching in horror as a trickle of light blue grace drains between his fingers and down his torso. 

He’s dying; in reality he  _ should  _ be dead already with how much grace is draining from him. 

Cas stands and stumbles forward, moving into the omnipresent white expanse. 

“Dean?!” he yells into the whiteness. “Sam?!”

A sudden ache in his side drags him down to his knees. He continues to crawl forward, but freezes when he hears the flapping of wings. He shoots his gaze towards the sound and finds a much younger version of himself standing across from him.

His doppelganger is a fledgling, tiny black wings sprouting behind his back. A young, but wiser Gabriel standing next to him. A sparkling blue lake manifests at the edge of the perimeter of whiteness, and Cas watches his tiny self waddle towards the shoreline, Gabriel following closely behind him. The lake is lined with a pebbled covered shore, and young Castiel stumbles forward, racing towards the bright blue. Suddenly, he trips over a tiny boulder and hurtles towards the water. Cas watches Gabriel reach forward and pull him back by his robe before his tiny feet touch the water. 

“Don’t step on that fish Castiel, big plans for that fish,” he says sternly. Castiel wobbles backwards, staring intently at the flat, silver fish with tiny webbed feet he’d almost killed. 

“Plans?” he asks.

“One day it’ll be a human,” Gabriel explains. 

“Human,” Castiel says, sounding out the word, testing out how it feels on his tongue. Gabriel smiles at him, soft and genuine, and wraps an arm around Cas’ tiny shoulder and the two of them flicker and then disappear before Cas’ eyes. 

Castiel smiles despite the aching pain ricocheting throughout his body. That was a happy memory, but he’s not in heaven, reliving his best moments like a human would. He knows heaven and this place is not it. There’s a different feel to this white land, more tense, mysterious and lacking in anything concrete other than himself. Despite its bland decoration, at least heaven had structure, albeit bland it was better than this emptiness. 

He’s crawling forward, focused on the grace weeping out of his wound, when another version of himself flickers in front of his vision.

He’s older than the first Castiel, but still young, only a couple hundred years or so, his strong wings no longer two tiny buds on his back. They now stretch out behind him in an arch of ebony. Young Castiel runs towards the whiteness, and slowly, rows upon rows of wooden shacks start popping up in front of him. His fingers are soaked in red blood, and as he runs, he drags his hand in a slash across every door.

Castiel freezes mid-crawl and watches the scene in front of him, squinting. He doesn’t remember this. 

He watches himself come to the end of the row of buildings, start to round the corner, and five angels brandishing angel blades tackle him to the ground. An angel strides towards him, and Castiel recognizes her, although she is younger too.

“Castiel,” Naomi barks, pulling him to his feet, hand clenched in his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“Saving these children,” he states, staring back at her defiantly. 

“God commanded us to kill the firstborn son of every Egyptian.”

“And how does that protect humanity? That’s our mission isn’t it? How are we supposed to serve and protect humanity if we are murdering innocent children?” Castiel struggles in her grasp, blue eyes flashing with a burst of grace. 

“They need to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says.

“No,” Castiel replies. He struggles again in her grasp and Naomi huffs in annoyance, reaches up and presses two fingers to his forehead until he falls back to the ground. 

“Continue the mission,” she says to the other angels surrounding Castiel’s unconscious body, “I’ll take him to heaven and re-educate him on what we are doing here.”

The angels nod their agreement, and then scatter heading back towards the houses Castiel passed by earlier. 

_ How could he forget this?! _

The vision of his former self flickers as Naomi roughly grabs his shoulder, hauling him to his feet and drags him back up to heaven. When she returns later, his former self standing a few feet away from her, Cas can tell they did something to him. There’s a vacant look in his eyes, and a determination in the clench of his hand around the hilt of the angel blade. 

“Castiel, you know your orders, now go. Kill them,” Naomi says.

He doesn’t reply, only nods slowly and shoots off towards the row of doorways he’d previously been trying to cover with lamb’s blood to save them. With a flick of his wrist, the door flies open. 

Cas watches in horror while his former self stalks into the house, there’s the sound of a mother sobbing, one long, bloodcurdling scream and then silence.

His young self walks out of the building, angel blade soaked in blood, and immediately turns towards the next door. 

Cas scrambles forward towards the scene, yelling, “NO, you don't have to do this!” 

As soon as he’s about to grab his own shoulder and pull himself back, the image dissipates into dust in front of him. 

Cas is alone, again, in the brightness, whimpering at the pain radiating from his wound and the memory of the massacre. In the vast silence, his labored breaths sound like gunshots. He hadn’t wanted to kill those young boys, that’s why he’d snuck away from the group and tried to fix what the other angels wanted to destroy. It was just the first of many times, but he knows that his brain was altered to suit the purpose of “God’s plan.” Or was it really the “angels’ plan” and “Naomi’s plan?” He’s not so sure which one was the truth, only that it doesn’t matter. He’s never been good at doing what he was told, if he had been he probably wouldn’t have ended up in this forsaken place. 

Cas doesn’t know where he’s going only that there has to be something here, something other than his memories. He doesn’t want to be trapped in eternity with the mess inside his brain, he’d rather die. 

The palm he has pressed against his wound starts to feel warm, and he looks down to examine it. The grace trickling between his fingers is dwindling and circular blue iridescent light is glowing from within him. He sucks in a breath and presses harder against the wound. He can’t die again if he’s already dead. 

The warmth pulsates from within him and bursts out of his body in a rush of searing heat. Castiel tumbles backwards, falling onto his back, and watches as the last of his grace races off and is engulfed by the whiteness.

He intimately feels the rhythmic thumping of his heart beating from within his chest. Human, again, despite the presence of his tattered wings sprouting out from his back. 

The wound in his chest is covered, healed up by his blast of grace, but now a new ache shudders in his chest. This time it is one combined of a myriad of needs: hunger, thirst, companionship, but he stuffs them all down and rises to his feet, starting on his trek towards finding something or someone.

* * *

The longer Cas walks, the darker it becomes around him. At first it’s barely noticeable, a slight change in the tint of the whiteness to a pale grey, then to a light grey. There is still nothing though, no noises, no other beings, and he wonders if he truly is alone with his thoughts in this place. Eventually his now human feet tire, and he plops down onto the flat ground, sitting cross-legged. He folds his hands together, closes his eyes, and breathes. 

“Castiel,” a voice commands, “Come, we must go to Earth and destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Cas’ eyes fly open at the mention of his name and he is met with the sight of two of his former brethren, Ishmael and Afriel standing before him and talking to his other self. 

“Destroy the cities? Both of them? Why?!” Castiel says, confusion and horror in his tone.

“They asserted their needs onto us, Castiel. Forcefully. We were travellers amongst them, they should have shown us hospitality but instead they gave us pride, sin, and treated us as if we were animals.”

“This is awful my brothers, but must we destroy them? Is there no other way to teach them this is not good in our Father’s eyes?” 

“Teach them?” Ishmael laughs, “They wanted to have human intercourse with beings of God, that is forbidden, they know not of right or wrong anymore.”

“They did not know you were angels,” Castiel argues. 

“It doesn’t matter, Castiel. When they disobey, we destroy them. It is what God wants, they have to learn.”

“I will not let you do this,” Castiel states, drawing his angel blade.

“You can’t stop us.”

Grace shoots out from Ishmael’s hands and starts to wind its way around Castiel’s arms before he can defend himself. He struggles against the cords wrapped tight around his shoulders that twine all the way down to his wrists. Ishmael comes close, tugging at the front of Castiel’s robe. 

“You may not participate, but you  _ will  _ watch this, so you know what to do next time.” 

Ishmael releases him roughly, making Cas stagger backwards a few steps. Afriel steps in close and places a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, glaring at him. 

The image in front of Cas’ eyes changes, the three of them are now in a field bordering the two towns all bustling with life. Ishmael and Afriel find Castiel a stump a couple hundred feet from the city, and force him to sit there, making sure he’s secure and cannot move. Despite knowing how strong angelic power is Castiel still tries to struggle against his bonds. 

Ishmael shoots him a smile over his shoulder as they walk away, “We’ll be right back.”

Nothing happens at first, just the bustle of everyday life in the two cities. And then he hears the screams. One woman tries to run out of the front gates, and Castiel watches in horror as Afriel comes up behind her and stabs her straight through the heart. When everything goes silent, that’s when the fires start. They rise high from the tallest building, yellow orange flames licking at the sky until the entire horizon is engulfed with smoke and fire. They could have done it near painlessly, just a quick snap of their fingers and the towns would have been destroyed, but they didn’t. They chose the bloody way. 

Castiel feels wetness and doesn’t realize what it is until it starts dripping onto the front of his robe. It’s the first time he’s ever cried. 

His former self, head bent and tears falling down his cheeks flickers and then disappears. Cas himself is crying, face buried in his palms, and he lays back onto the floor curling in on himself. He couldn’t save them. 

_ hecouldn’thecouldn’thecouldn’t _

* * *

 

When Cas comes to he’s laid out flat on his stomach, eyes aching from crying. He’s disoriented at first, the world around him now pitch black. He gets to his knees and when he raises his eyes he sees a mirror image of himself surrounded in dark red light staring back at him. Ebony wings stretch out back behind him, trembling with energy. He almost wants to bow down, in awe of the amount of power reverberating from his old self. 

He knows this moment, he could never forget it.

His old self meets his eyes for one moment, and in the gaze is his ever present determination and resolution to the salvation of humanity. It’s brief and then Castiel is gazing over Cas’ shoulder to someone behind him. 

Cas rotates his body to see and finds Uriel, Naomi, and Zachariah. Other angels pop up around his past self until hundreds are surrounding him, all seraphs completely covered in golden battle gear, prepped to brave Hell. 

“You are to go to Hell, find the Righteous Man, and bring him to us,” Naomi commands. “Once he is within our possession, it will be easier to  _ convince _ him to join our cause and start the Apocalypse. It doesn’t matter who saves him, what matters is where he ends up and that he comes to us with his soul, and body complete and whole. Do you understand?”

The angels all nod in unison, except for Castiel who stares right at Naomi, eyes sparking with rising power from his grace. He needs to save Dean Winchester. 

He knows what will happen to Dean if he’s brought to heaven, the techniques that will be used to make him comply. There are... other ways to convince the Righteous Man to join their cause, he does not deserve more torture, especially not after the sacrifice he made for his brother.

The angels all take off at once, and Castiel instantly soars to the lead. He’s not the fastest but he’s the most agile when it comes to fighting demons. He blasts through the gates with a ball of combined grace with his brethren, but surges past them as they begin to fight the demons guarding the gates. He flies under and over, going towards the depths. He’s stopped a few times by demons, which he kills almost instantaneously. Castiel is almost to the racks when he realizes he’s not alone: behind him is Nathaniel. Nathaniel is not bad, but he is very dedicated to following every order given to him, which in this case is not going to work for Castiel. He turns his head to the side, meeting Nathaniel’s eyes. With a twist of his wings he dives beneath him and stabs his angel blade into the meat of Nathaniel’s leg. His brother falls to the racks, screaming in pain, but Castiel surges forward, already sensing the brightness of a human soul nearly within reach. 

Dean is glowing, his soul brighter than any Castiel had ever laid eyes on. Despite his mangled body, and the garbled screams he’s pulling from a demon’s throat with a grappling hook, Cas hopes Dean is still human. Alastair stands back aways from the scene, watching his protégé work. Alastair is too strong for Castiel to kill, but he can wound him at least for long enough for Castiel to save Dean. 

Dean notices him first, the brightness of Castiel glowing in the depths of hell and cries out to him, demon in his clutches instantly forgotten. Alastair whips around and snarls, rushing towards Castiel who easily dips out of the way, managing a superficial hit across Alastair’s forearm. Alastair tackles him and they roll on the creaky racks, until Castiel manages to gain the upper hand, stabbing Alastair once in the side and again on his leg. The demon whimpers in pain, slinking off into the darkness to nurse his wound. Castiel flies to his feet, groaning at the tear in his wings and the gash across his cheek. 

Dean’s chains crumble beneath Castiel’s touch. He touches Dean’s bicep, letting his grace leave his body until Dean’s body looks brand new and healed from all scarring caused by hell. Castiel clutches at Dean’s arm, grabbing onto him as tightly as he can, and takes off towards the gates of hell. 

As he leaves hell and races towards earth before his brethren can notice, he yells out a proclamation, “Dean Winchester is saved!”

After situating Dean in his grave, Castiel flies back to heaven and is, unsurprisingly met by Naomi at the gates looking incredibly pissed. 

“Where is Dean?!” She yells.

“On Earth, where he belongs.”

“Those were not your orders Castiel,” she says, voice trembling in anger.

“I’m aware.”

“You care too much about them Castiel, you’ve  _ always  _ cared too much about them and look at what that got you. It’s almost like at this point you want to be tortured. Do you ever learn?”

“You would’ve hurt him,” Castiel says, defiant even as Naomi’s guards grab ahold of his arms, and place him in angelic cuffs. 

“And this entire process would have been over with faster, but now we don't even know if he’ll help us because he has free will again. You’ve fucked everything up.”

Cas, watches his form fade returning him to darkness, and bows his head, human tears welling in his eyes.

“I always do.”

* * *

 

For awhile, there is silence. Cas wanders through the void blind, fear trembling through his entire being. He waits to be attacked, to trip over some obstacle along the path or run into a structure hiding within the vast expanse. But the further he walks, the more fatigued his legs and human body become, the he realizes that there truly is nothing here. 

He’s heard talk of The Empty in the past, as a sort of horror story from the elder angels. A once visited place where you either slept for all eternity or were faced with torment. He’s not surprised a restless eternity of torment is his fate, he supposes he deserves it after the things he’s done. 

Eventually his legs betray him, shaking with exhaustion, and he stumbles to his knees. There’s an ache on the bottom of his foot, dull but yet sharp at the same time, right where the ball of his foot curves into his toes. He’d forgotten how annoying human pain feels. 

Cas falls back onto his ass, and shifts until he’s sitting cross-legged. Eventually his eyelashes start to flutter, and he feels his body start to weaken. Cas lies down on the hard surface, removing his trenchcoat and folding it up underneath his head as a makeshift pillow to ease the discomfort of the ground. Despite his human bodily aches, his fatigue eventually makes him drift off to sleep, mind fighting against his desire to allow this place to swallow him whole.

He’s not sure if there is a way out of this place, but he has to at least to get back home. 

* * *

 

“Cas?”

Cas sits up, awaken from a dead sleep to the sound of Dean’s voice echoing around him. He scrambles to his feet and stares up at the darkness above him.

“Dean?!”

There’s no answer, and the sound of his own heavy breathing rockets his heartbeat higher. He freezes, waiting and hoping.

“Hey, I don’t think you can hear me anymore, and I really shouldn’t be doing this whole praying thing in the first place, but... I can’t help it. It’s been... three days man, and I guess I shouldn’t be telling you this but it fucking aches that you’re gone. Last-last time it hurt but this time, I don’t know if I can... live without you. I’ve asked God, I’ve yelled and he’s not listening. I just... I really miss you buddy, so if you’re out there and... still a--alive somewhere, come back when you can. Please.”

Cas memorizes the words echoing around him. He waits for more, but Dean is gone, at least for now. He knows better than to hope it’s the  _ real _ Dean, he wouldn’t be surprised if The Empty figured out how to play with his emotions. It doesn’t matter though, just the simple sound of Dean’s voice reaching out to him is motivation enough.

He walks back to where his trenchcoat was lying, feeling around on the ground until his fingers touch the smooth fabric. He slings it on, picks a direction and starts walking. 

Something The Empty doesn’t understand is that Dean is not his weakness, he’s Cas’ strength. 

He walks for an unknown amount of time after his encounter with Dean’s voice, no noticeable change in the blank scenery around him until the everything starts to grow lighter around him. Cas wonders if this entire place is one large light-changing circle. As the light changes, two forms appear in front of him in a mirage and he stops in his tracks. He recognizes Dean before his own self. He’s sitting on a wooden bench in the middle of a park, partially hunched over with his hands folded between his knees. Cas sees himself next to Dean, and all at once the flood of memories rush back to him, the freshness of the air, the slight breeze, and how this moment drastically changed the course of his long life.  

“Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Castiel asks, looking over at Dean.

Dean meets Cas’ eyes, dubious, “Okay.”

“I am not a hammer as you say. I have questions. I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But, in the coming months, you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.”

It was the first time he’d been so honest with a human, with anyone, so open about the things he felt, how he doubted, much of the time, his Father’s supposed orders. Cas watches the moment following his heartfelt speech, the way he and Dean silently looked at each other without communicating, realizing that was the moment he truly understood why his Father commanded the angels to love humanity more than him. They are special; they are truly holy and created in God’s image. Sure, Cas always had sympathies towards humanity, but if he had to pick a pinpoint over the course of his long life, he’d say that meeting Dean, figuratively was the nail in his metaphorical -- and literal -- coffin.

Cas watches himself disappear from Dean’s side, feels the annoyance in Dean’s soul at Castiel’s sudden vanishment reverberate through him, and then it’s gone and he’s met with Zachariah’s sardonic smile right in front of his face. 

“Castiel,” Zachariah says, sounding out each syllable of his name, “I see you’ve become  _ acquainted  _ with the Righteous Man.”

Zachariah pushes him backwards and Castiel lands with a yelp into a stiff, hard-backed chair. Instantly, his hands are locked into place with warded cuffs and he stares up in horror at Zachariah looming in front of him with a frown painted on his face. 

“When will you learn Castiel, that doing God’s orders doesn’t always mean doing what’s best for humanity. We’ve tried to teach you, hundreds of times now and every time,” Zachariah pauses, pointing an accusatory finger few inches from Castiel’s face, “ _ you  _ don’t listen.”

“Our purpose is to protect and love humanity as God did,” Castiel states.

“Aw, that’s cute!” Zachariah sing-songs, a faux smile on his face, “even after all this time, all the torture we’ve put you through, you still  _ care.”  _

He sighs heavily, and the smile on his face drops into something cold and completely non-angelic. “I really didn’t want to have to do this,  _ again,  _ Castiel but you’ve given me no other choice.”

Zachariah pulls out a screwdriver looking instrument and holds it up to the front of Castiel’s face. 

“Maybe this time, you’ll finally be fixed,” Zachariah says, as he turns the instrument on and it starts whirring, quickly advancing closer to Castiel’s face. 

The echoes of his former self’s screams echo long after the image is gone. 

Cas takes in a deep breath, shaking off the memory and the pain of the angelic instrument burrowing deep into his skull, and starts walking. 

* * *

 

After a few hours, just as his limbs start to grow tired again and his stomach aches uncontrollably in hunger, he beings to see tall dry grasses pop up around him. They’re engulfed in this white light, and it’s flat around him as far as he can see, but there’s  _ something  _ here. That must be a sign of some sort of change, right? 

A few sunflowers spring up amongst the tall grass, providing his world with a brief hint of real color for the first time since he’s been here. There’s a breeze now too, soft and warm; it feels nice against his cheeks, and he takes a moment to sit in the rustling grasses. He needs a rest. 

He plops down onto the soft soil, and sifts the dirt through his fingers, enjoying how good it is to  _ feel _ again. There’s many things he didn’t miss from being human, but the positive sensations of his body and greater awareness of his emotions were aspects he longed for once he returned to his angelic state. Cas closes his eyes against the brightness and lets a wave of calm sweep over him. 

The texture of the dirt sifting through his hand changes, turns more gritty and coarse until Cas forces his eyes open and looks down to find black goo slipping through his fingers. Cas scrambles to his feet and looks up to find himself in a church filled with hundreds of people all staring at him in horror. He feels something trickling down his face, and touches his cheek with his fingers. When he stares at his hand, there’s more black goo. Voices pop up in his head whispering, “Kill them, kill everyone. Rule the world Castiel, you know that has been your true purpose all along. You don’t need humanity, all you need is us, us, us.” 

Cas slams his eyes shut and tries to fight back, against the onslaught of voices inside his head. But when he opens his eyes, the church is devastated, bodies sprawled across pews, across the altar, and blood splatters taint the stained glass. 

“No, I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do any of this,” Cas yells at the voices. He grabs his head and tries to shake them out, but all they do is laugh at him.

“You’re stuck with us Castiel. Forever.”

Cas is then blasted out of his former body and forced to watch a series of flickering images as the Leviathan take his body across the United States and use it as a weapon. He doesn’t know how many people he killed. Whether they were good or bad it doesn’t matter, he is still and will always be, disgusted with himself.

He doesn’t want to do it, but he watches it all, lets the memories return, and soaks in the pain and the shame of his former decisions. He shouldn’t, all it does is make him hate himself more, but if there’s a way out of here, he figures he has to go through it all in order to be worthy to make it out. 

He’s always longed for redemption for all the things he’s done wrong, and this time if he makes it out, maybe he’ll finally be able to do that. 

The images begin to fade, dissolving into dust and falling like ash to the ground, filtering amongst the stalks of grass around him. It feels like a passed test, a step forward, so that’s what he does. He keeps walking. 

No longer being entrenched in darkness is refreshing, at least now he has scenery. The view serves to occupy his mind on things other than his personal failures. It’s harder to ignore them now that The Empty is literally forcing him to relive his Worst Greatest Hits. But if this is the only course to get out of here; he’ll take it. 

As he continues walking, Cas notices a large building in the distance. It sticks out like an ugly thumb in the expanse of peaceful flowing fields. He gets closer and stutters to a stop a couple hundred feet away when he notices it is an abandoned warehouse. It’s battered, shingles missing from the roof, paint peeling off the sides, and the front door is blown wide open. 

It looks different than how it did in Heaven, but Cas knows this place.

He walks through the open door with renowned courage and instantly feels himself transported into his old body. The mirage is no longer fake, but real, and his hands tingle with awareness of his grace inside him once again. He looks up to see Naomi stalking towards him, a grin on her face.

“So Castiel, are you ready for training?” she asks, clapping her hands together. 

“Training? For what?” Cas asks, all faux innocence. 

“Well, your mission: to kill Dean of course,” Naomi states. 

It’s then that he sees him, Naomi’s own creation, made to look perfectly just like the real Dean. He steps out of the shadows, armed with an angel blade, but it’s hanging limp at his sides. When he sees Castiel, he smiles and eagerly walks towards him. Cas’ heart clenches up at the sight of him, a replica to the real Dean, but there’s still just enough off that it could never be truly him. 

“Hey Cas,” Dean says, jogging up to pat Cas on the shoulder, before turning to look at Naomi expectantly. 

“Why do I have to do this?” Cas asks. He never asked her this before, at the time he was too horrified to even form words. 

“It’s time we broke you of this weakness with humanity. The other angels and I figure that if there’s any way to do that, it’s through him,” Naomi says, with a soft smile pointed in Dean’s direction. 

“I see,” Cas says, taking a step closer into Naomi’s orbit and twirling his angel blade between his fingers. “But something you’ll never understand is this compassion you have tried and tried to torture out of me? It’s never going away. I was born broken, I was created to care too much about humanity. It’s never changing, so you can make me kill him thousands of times, but when I have to do it,  _ for real _ , I won’t be able to. That’s not who I am, and I will always put them first, because that’s what we  _ were _ created to do.”

“Castiel,” Naomi starts to protest, and unsheathes her angel blade, taking a step closer. 

Castiel grabs hold of the front of her coat, slamming her back into the nearest wall.

“I should have done this the first time you asked me to kill him, I wasn’t strong enough to break through your control then, but I am now,” Cas growls. He steps back and with all of his might slams his angel blade straight into Naomi’s chest. Her eyes go white and she screams out, and he steps back as she crumples to the ground. Cas stares down at her dead body, regretting that he had to kill another of his brethren. He sheathes his angel blade and looks up to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean stares at him in confusion, and takes a hesitant step forward towards Cas.

“Cas?” He says, soft, hand outstretched, and his eyebrows crinkled in worry. 

Cas doesn’t sense fear in him; but he hates that he ever made Dean afraid of him even if it isn’t the real Dean.

“You’re okay, nothing’s going to happen to you,” Cas says, he walks forward and places a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Are you staying here with me?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head, and squeezes Dean’s shoulder, “No, I have to go back home to my family.”

Dean smiles soft and so genuine Cas feels tears pricking at his eyes, “I understand. Bye, Castiel.”

“Good bye, Dean.”

All at once the world changes and he’s blasted into the air with a whoosh sound. It feels nearly like flying, but when he finally lands it’s less than graceful and face first into flowered field. He’s on Earth, somewhere, it doesn’t matter where. He can get home now. 

Cas stands to his feet, brushing debris off his coat and grabs his phone out of his pocket. The screen is cracked from his messy landing, and the phone doesn’t turn on when he presses the button on the side. He spins around, examining the area around him and finds it to be completely flat. Middle America, at least he’s close to Sam and Dean. 

Cas closes his eyes, breathes in deep the fresh air, and listens to the direction of the wind. He picks a direction, east, and starts walking. Eventually he’ll have to come to a town with a phone booth or at the very least find a person who has a usable phone. 

Until then, he’ll just keep walking. It’s time to for him to go home. 


End file.
